Struck a Nerve - A Story of San Sincero, California
Written by Lothar TuppanStruck a Nerve
A Story of San Sincero, California
By Lothar J Tuppan
Chapter 2
San Sincero, California, 1985.
Elliot steps off the bus at the corner of 5th and Grand, walking towards 4th Street. Halfway down the block he sees a teenaged girl wearing an oversized olive parka, Doc Martens boots, and a knit cap, leaning against a wall.
She smiles as he approaches, “There he is.”
“Morning Karen.” Elliot chuckles.
They hug and, in the safety and warmth of that embrace, Karen’s voice quavers a bit when she says, “Hi Elliot!”
Karen likes hearing his name, she always has. The way it feels in her mouth, the flow from vowel to consonant, makes it seem more than just a name.
“I think you’re overdressed.” Elliot says, “Sun’s coming out.”
“Surprises never cease. But it is pretty damn cold still. Are we going to get some food or what?”
“Girl, you keep pouting you’re gonna ruin those pretty looks of yours.”
At this she smiles, “Ah, flattery. Lucky for you I like flattery.” She starts to slip her arm into his when she pulls back suddenly.
“Oh! I have something for you. I found this yesterday and thought you might like it.”
Karen hands Elliot an old, worn paperback book of Native American mythology. He takes it gently and breathes in deep, smelling the weathered pages.
“Thank you Karen. This is wonderful.”
“No problem. I know how much you like stuff like that.”
“I sure do. Now,” he says proffering his arm. “The least I can do to say thanks is buy you breakfast. Let’s go eat.”
Under the stones of the Camino Real, in a time beyond time.
The roads all lead to dead ends including the end of time and now you spin and spin and spin and know that the jester laughs no more and that your time of dancing is at an end and you must sHaKe heaThS COffiNs and hAlt bUFfalo iNTEgritY and you know that her love unlocks…
San Sincero, California, 1985.
Karen leans back, full of eggs, potatoes, and gyro meat (the most popular breakfast special at Falafel Bob’s—the best kept secret, hole-in-the-wall Greek/Middle Eastern diner right at the nexus of Uptown, Downtown, and the Pleasure District).
“You know,” says Karen as Elliot picks up the check. “You don’t have to buy. I’m an employee at the Center now, not a volunteer. I can buy my own breakfast.”
Elliot looks at Karen, a seventeen-year old runaway trying to put her life together. He sees her pain, nervousness, self-doubt, and fear. Damn it. He thinks. This world is too damn cruel sometimes.
“I know Karen,” he says as he smiles over his coffee. “Charlie told me that you’ve been doing great and that it seems you’re, how did he put it, ‘growing into your own skin’.”
He puts his coffee cup down and gently squeezes her hand in both of his. “I’m proud of you girl.”
Karen’s not used to praise. Her soul tenses for a brief moment before she forces herself to relax. She smiles and squeezes back.
“But you need to save your money.” Says Elliot. “Besides, I got a big tip from a drunk tourist who loved my rendition of ‘What’s Going On’ last night.”
“I still don’t understand why you don’t get a gig at a club or something. You sing better than most people I’ve ever heard. You’d clean up.”
“Ah, girl, I got no interest in that. I’ve told you that before. If I get a job singing, it’ll mess up the music. They’ll try and sell my personality and they’ll tell me what songs I can sing because they’re the songs people want to hear, what they’ll dance to, what they’ll drink to. Not for me. No way. I’m happy singing what feels right in the moment to feel the Music of the Spheres. And since I’m able to buy us both this here fine meal, I guess that most people who hear me sing are happy with that too. Happy enough to show a little monetary gratitude.”
Karen looks at Elliot and the heat inside of her heart burns away the last remnants of the morning cold.
“I know. I just…You’ve been my best friend. You’ve treated me better than anyone in my whole shitty life. Hell, you’re the only man who hasn’t tried to fuck me.”
“Don’t talk like that Karen.”
“It’s true. The guys at the Youth Center are great. They’re polite and they’d never actually make a pass at me—at least not until I turn eighteen this year—but they do look at me like they want to. You’re the only one that’s just treated me just… like a person.”
Karen takes a sip of coffee and Elliot sees that she has more she wants to say. He looks at her softly, holding the space with his affection, so she can continue.
“At first I thought you were gay but then it slowly dawned on me that you were actually a decent human being. And I want everyone to see you the way I do. To respect you the way I do.”
Elliot feels a little embarrassed at the declaration and he always has whenever someone would express love ever since he was hAbiTabLE BoNeY DAtA and Elliot doesn’t understand any of that and something in his mind just shuts off and all he feels is a love that has lasted since before Elliot was and even though he wants to find where the thoughts go he knows he needs to be here for Karen who is the only one he can do anything for even though he wants to follow the words and force them to make sense but now he can’t remember anything he was just feeling and knows that he can’t do a damn thing except say, “Well. First of all, I love you too. And second, I’ll have you know I like women just fine.”
Karen laughs, feeling stronger after having said what she has wanted to say for ages, and asks, “I have to start my shift soon but, are you up for a walk before I head off to the center?”
Elliot finishes his cup of coffee in one swallow, “Yes Ma’am.”
Under the stones of the Camino Real, in a time beyond time.
It would be so easy to lose yourself in the swirling dust devil within your mind but you know that chaos would lead to meaning which would wind your might up strong against the storm of black iron that you feel swirling around you but you need to be here for yEaRn RUineD FoRk but you know that THreaDS pHrAses MenD is coming but you don’t remember that RoYal UndEraGe dOe but there isn’t anything else to do except focus, focus, focus…
San Sincero, California, 1985.
“Focus Elliot.” Karen laughs. “You look lost in thought. Whatcha thinking about?”
The storm of the morning passed while they ate and now the sun’s light warms the two friends from the outside as the food and coffee warms them from the inside. Elliot laughs gently at himself as he shakes his errant thoughts away. He grabs Karen’s hand and leads her in not quite a full run across the street towards the construction site of a new office building being built at the edge of the financial district.
Stopping abruptly, Elliot turns to Karen, smiles, and says, “Hand me that small piece of wood, that 1×2, will you Karen?”
“Here.” She says passing it to him. “What are you going to do?”
Elliot inspects his tool, making sure it is a proper tool for the job, “I noticed them pouring cement as I was riding the bus this morning. I want to write you a little something in the sidewalk.”
“What?” She asks. “Why?”
“Because, soon you’re going to be getting on with your life, maybe going to school.” He pauses and feels somewhat confused as the words, “And who knows how long this old man will be around” come out of his mouth.
Karen looks at Elliot urgently, scared that this will be taken from her too, “You’re not sick or anything?”
“Hell no!” He laughs. “I’m healthy as an ox. I’m just saying…”
“Elliot, you don’t have to do this.” Karen laughs, not sure if she’s stupid for feeling uncomfortable and embarrassed.
“Yes I do.” Elliot says with absolute certainty before reading out each word as he engraves them into the cement. “Karen… is… my… friend.”
Elliot looks at his work and nods in satisfaction, “There. Now, every time you come by here you’ll have a reminder of me carved in stone.”
“You’re crazy.” Karen says, not sure why her eyes are welling up with tears. “Thank you.”
Elliot laughs, “You’re welcome! Now, I think that…”
Sounds depart and Elliot’s face turns ashen and Karen looks at the sunlight playing off the wet cement in an eternal moment of portent before everything—reality itself—goes black and Karen feels Elliot’s heart beating next to her. It is the only sound in the world, a sound that births colors of Light (bright reds and greens, and electric blues and golds), until another sound—sharp footsteps—approach, sucking the light and syncopating badly with the sound of Elliot. A collision in the dark. Then the world rushes back in, filling her nose and eyes and ears, running its clammy hands over her skin and she sees a shadow touching tenebrously the words that Elliot carved for her.
Karen looks at the figure casting the shadow: a young, arrogant-looking yuppie, dressed immaculately, smiling smugly, who says, “And, there you are.”
Elliot starts humming, while looking furtively about. He wants to run, to grab Karen and get them both to safety but his feet won’t move and the eyes of the Sharp Dressed Man, hold him frozen, unable to dance the way he wants to.
Karen doesn’t know what is going on but she knows that despite the weirdness of the instant, this is the most real moment she has ever witnessed and knows what she has to do.
She picks up a piece of rebar next to her, throws it as hard as she can at the yuppie, grabs Elliot’s hand and pulls him down the sidewalk, leading him into a full-fledged run.
Karen says, “What the hell’s going on?”
Elliot, very concerned, says, “We need to move! I need to get you to safety”
“I’m pretty sure I’m the one getting you to safety,” she says.
Through their run, Elliot sees Karen, feels her love for him and realizes she, at this moment in time, has no fear for her own safety and is only concerned for him; knowing instinctively that the Sharp Dressed Man is here for Elliot. It has been so long since Elliot has felt that kind of gift, longer than San Sincero has stood.
Elliot knows that they won’t be able to lose their pursuer and remembers songs of freedom, desperation, redemption. He thinks of Gloria Gaynor, Janis Joplin, and The Who. And then older singers. Older sentiments. Going back to the beginning. When humankind first started singing their dreams to stars that would move and dance as if scattered by a great hand.
Karen stops as she feels Elliot pull his hand from hers. He stands facing the Sharp Dressed Man (who is still close behind them despite the fact that he is walking at a leisurely pace) and sings a single note—pure and raw and bladed—right at the yuppie who covers his ears before collapsing to the ground in pain.
She grabs his hand and they run again down the street, until, breathlessly Karen says, “Quick, down this alley! It leads to a place where I used to hide…”
Karen and Elliot stop abruptly as they see the Sharp Dressed Man waiting for them.
“You dropped this.” The Sharp Dressed Man says, casually tossing the rebar back at Karen with his left hand while holding a gun in his right.
“What the Fuck?” she says, letting the rebar clatter beside her.
“Really, old one.” The Sharp-Dressed Man says. “We wondered what happened to you. One day you were in my Lord’s keeping, and then you broke free. But no one had any idea, that you would go to such extremes to stay hidden, certainly not me.”
Elliot has no idea what the man is talking about… or does he? Thoughts start to twist from below. Memories.
“Your singing is still exceptional but I expected more sport,” says the Sharp-Dressed Man. “But, you’re not thinking straight. Not able to thwart. Mind all awhirl. Isolated and confused and unable to unfurl.”
He shows a crocodile smile, “Nowhere to go, right in my trap. And you know nothing, I like it like that!”
Elliot says calmly, “Karen, leave me.”
“I wonder,” Elliot’s hunter asks, “considering how well you’ve hidden yourself, if I can kill you with this simple bullet.”
“Who’s the fucking suit? What the fuck is he talking about?”
Elliot looks at her sadly, “Don’t let him get you too. I used up all my juice with that one easy note. I’m done. Just go.”
The Sharp Dressed Man aims his pistol at Elliot’s chest. “Let’s find out, shall we?”
Karen feels a rage rising inside of her, different than the anger of hurt and betrayal that has been her closest companion for so long; a companion that fed off of her self-loathing. This rage is independent of any of that and she sees herself as Elliot sees her and the rage turns tender with peace and a sense of freedom. She hears the gun cock.
She hears Elliot say, “Karen, run.”
And Karen steps in front of the bullet sent to kill the dearest friend she has ever had.
“No!!!!” Screams Elliot as Karen collapses silently at Elliot’s feet.
“Fascinating.” Says the Sharp Dressed Man. “I didn’t expect that. Oh well, no matter.”
Elliot sinks to the ground, holding Karen’s body, sobbing deeply.
“You still care,” laughs the Sharp Dressed Man. “After all this time, you still care.” He leans against a grimy brick wall and smiles condescendingly at Elliot. “I’ll let you feel this exquisite pain, for just a bit, and then we’ll finally end this.”
Elliot doesn’t hear him. He just holds Karen’s body, wanting to will her back to life but knowing that her heart was perfectly punctured by the bullet and he knows a pain that goes deeper than one life and feels the warmth of her blood covering his hands and arms and he knows she chose this sacrifice out of love and…
Under the stones of the Camino Real, in a time beyond time.
In the dead-ends of all the roads the dust-devil expands and thunder peals in a sky bereft of clouds and the words swirl with meaning as the blood sanctifies and you know that yoUR FriEnD kaRen has helped you SHaKe Off The CHaiNs for the first time since you were beATeN BY iAldabaoth and your might coalesces into a loving fist so that you can FIght YoUr fiNal bATtlE and you look at the prey who thought he was the predator and remember that YoU arE an elder GOd and the stones above you break free from their mortar as you look to the stars above you, and stand up.
San Sincero, California, 1985.
The Sharp Dressed Man looks Elliot in the eyes and says, “Ah, that’s more like it. Is this the first time you’ve actually been aware since you escaped our prison? Did you really know what you were doing when you just traded one prison for another little prison of flesh?” He laughs until tears pour down Joe Davidson Jr.’s face. “Did you?”
“You gloat like an idiot, Archon.” Elliot says through gritted teeth.
The Sharp Dressed man laughs as he says, “You’re losing touch In’olloku. You’re not even a hint of a challenge. You’ve been one of them for too long. Limited. Flawed. Meat. Nobody knows your name. Nobody believes in you anymore.”
“It doesn’t matter.” Says Elliot. “I believe in them.”
“Them!” Exclaims the archon in disgust. “Their lives are insignificant. They don’t matter except as cattle. You were an Elder God! Now look at you. You and your meat don’t matter. You are ineffectual.”
Elliot listens for a moment and says quietly, “I can hear them.”
And he can.
He hears Gary talking with one of his cooks, a man (barely a boy really) named Roger who is exhausted from working and going to school full time. Gary makes him laugh and feel like, maybe he can keep going as it is only another month before the school year will be over.
He hears Nancy, his favorite waitress at Denny’s (they always enjoy a game of light, innocent, flirtation with each other), gently ask Saul (an old man who sits at the counter every morning ever since his wife died of cancer last month) if she can get him anything else. Her kind eyes holding the rhythm with the melody of her words.
He hears the music of all of the lives he knows, sometimes harmonizing, sometimes discordant, blending and stretching and the melody rises and the rhythm establishes itself.
He hears Charlie at the Youth Center say that he’s concerned that Karen is late for her shift and the music becomes focused. A harsh bass beat starts to lead everything as Elliot feels his might and sees the stars beyond the blue sky above.
The Sharp Dressed Man points the gun at Elliot and says, “That stupid girl died for nothing” before pulling the useless trigger and looking confused as to why the gun doesn’t seem to work anymore.
“You know that the word ‘sacrifice’ means ‘to make sacred’ right?” says Elliot, looking at Karen’s blood, drying on his hands.
And Elliot stands up. And, finally, begins to dance.
The Sharp Dressed Man feels the words that form him start to dissipate, to stop making sense. He looks at the aged, withered, black man before him but sees deeper, sees a writing mass of tendrils and a storm cloud of rage that dissolves the Archon’s right to rule in this time and place.
The Archon wearing the Seeming of Joe Davidson Jr. says, “How…” how did you?
Elliot looks at him and says, “What you said. I guess it struck a nerve.”
The Archon, held in In’olloku’s mighty arms, feels his essence tearing and screams.
“Her name is Karen.” Says Elliot.
The Archon’s screams become a chorus of multiple voices that reverberate through the bones of the city.
“Last time,” Elliot says, “it took Ialdabaoth himself to defeat me. You, little thug, shouldn’t have toyed with me. You should have killed me while I was still dreaming.”
Thunder crashes again in the cloudless sky as the Archon is rent asunder.
“You were right about some things. I have been one of them for too long. My heart has belonged to them for too long. I’m more than what I used to be.”
He looks down at his human form.
“And Karen’s sacrifice won’t be enough for me to defeat Ialdabaoth; defeat his despair. And, honestly, I’m not sure anything I could ever do would be strong enough for that. I can already feel him marshaling his might against mine.”
In’olloku closes his eyes and begins to say goodbye to Elliot.
The skies above the Camino Real, in a now beyond time.
It is time to fulfill my duty.
The Star-Walker soars and thinks, You sacrificed yourself to me out of a very simple love Karen. Now I will make you proud. I will make this land, and the people, that I have loved since the beginning, and who I failed centuries ago, proud.
One of the oldest of the old gods rises towards the sun and begins to dance and sing.
Some people, in the months and years to come, remember this moment in dreams. Some remember a horrible monster in the sky. Some remember a dancing clown. Those who don’t wake up in terror remember a strange star being held and scattered from the sky… a star that lands right in the heart of San Sincero.
There, In’olloku thinks. This is the penultimate star I will ever scatter and I give it to you, the children of my heart, with all of my love and all of my magic.
Nothing will be the same here. I give you back as much wonder, mystery, magic, and meaning as I can.
In’olloku rejoins the fleshy form of Elliot, back in the alley, and mutters one last gift of love before his final act, “All y’all don’t need to pick the lock, I’ve given you the key.”
“Now, I know that wicked Demiurge will be coming here and he will try to hurt everyone just to spite me and because it’s what he does. So, here’s my last sacrifice for you. Just like your ancestors did for me. Y’all just think nicely every once and awhile of poor old Elliot.”
Elliot then reaches inside of his chest and pulls out his beating heart. He squeezes until it becomes small and bright and hot.
“And here’s my final star to set to swinging.”
The star burns brightly, blinding everything in an devastating expanse of light. Light so bright that Ialdabaoth’s agents know to stay away from direct contact in fear of being seen clearly with a truth that burns.
San Sincero, California, 1985.
It’s 2:45 in the afternoon and the morning crew at Denny’s have either left already or are getting ready to. The swing shift starts at 3:00pm and, as the employees get ready to clock in, it seems like they are charged with energy and hope. Even some of the morning-shift staff, those who are exhausted, feel something good is in the air.
Laughter pours out of the kitchen as someone plays a good-natured joke on one of the cooks. Doug, the evening manager who is just starting his shift quips, “Don’t make me pull this restaurant over!” and more laughter erupts.
A few customers look concerned, trapped. They leave their tables without finishing their food, go to the register, pay their bills quickly, and then leave, trying not to be obvious as they look over their shoulders.
At most tables though the customers are laughing and smiling. Solitary diners at the counter strangely start conversations with those sitting beside them as if they were neighbors or old friends.
Nancy puts her coat on and sees Gary refilling the coffee pot. She shivers as she closes the coat around her as there is a sudden frost deep in her bones. Gary watches the brew begin to fill the pot and thinks how much he hates the dull brown color he’s seeing, it looks gray to him at this moment. Like death. Neither of them are smiling. Or laughing. They look around the restaurant—at the diners, the staff, the strange way the light plays with the shadows and vice versa.
Then, looking each other in the eye, they find themselves hugging fiercely, neither of them knowing why they are crying.
